


Let's Bleed Together

by 221brosiewilde



Category: Penny Dreadful (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, D/s undertones, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-04 02:39:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4122828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221brosiewilde/pseuds/221brosiewilde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sembene takes care of Ethan just after his transformation in S2E6</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Bleed Together

**Author's Note:**

> Someone on tumblr (I can't remember who) expressed their sadness at the lack of Ethan/Sembene fic. So I did a thing.  
> Thanks to [Sarah](http://www.bisexualcyborg.tumblr.com) for the enthusiasm and the expert beta!

The only thing Ethan remembers is the moonlight. It had come in through the basement window, unfiltered and blinding. He remembers standing up for some reason. He remembers Sembene’s face as he sat in the center of the room, calm and unflinching as always, a grounding force in a wave of confusion.

And then, sudden pain, startling in its ferocity, its hunger. The urge to sink his teeth into something and just _rip_ it to shreds courses through his body, more powerful than any adrenaline rush he’s ever felt before. It’s all consuming and heady and he _wants_ so badly but it _hurts_ and-

There are birds chirping outside. Which is odd. Birds don’t usually sing at night, at least not in London. And not in the summer time. When he was a boy he spent his time outside memorizing bird calls; that way he could identify them when he went on walks with his mother, just to watch her face light up.

A linnet lets out a loud trill. Ethan opens his eyes.

And immediately regrets it.

Sunlight pours in through the window straight into his face. He flinches, attempts to roll away from it, but his arm and side both twinge in protest. He takes a deep breath and prepares to try again, but breathing sends a stab of pain through his chest. That would be...what? Broken ribs? Cracked, maybe? He takes a smaller breath this time, feeling out the nuances of the pain, and... yes. Definitely broken. For now. At any rate it doesn’t look like he’ll be chasing anything down tonight. But that’s fine. The basement floor feels cool against his back, and besides being rather thirsty, the pain is at a minimum if he stays still. He’s done this before. His wounds will heal in a few hours. He’ll be fine.

Something moves in the darkness, the sound of a chair scraping on the rough floor.

Ethan jumps. His body aches at the sudden movement and he doubles over with the pain of it, a small groan escaping him. He pauses for a second to catch his breath, then pushes through it. He reaches for a gun, but _fuck,_ he didn’t bring his gun. And why would he, when his blackouts generally mean he can rip people apart with his bare hands?

“There is a glass of water on your right,” a voice says, “but maybe you’re not ready for it yet.”

Ethan clenches his jaw. Right. Sembene. He remembers that. He’d watched him sit down in his chair and he’d been aware of him while he paced and waited for...the thing. But he doesn’t remember seeing Sembene at all during the night. Had he left? Had he been hurt?

“Are you-” Ethan stops. Speaking feels like dragging sandpaper over the inside of his throat. He coughs. “Are you alright?”

Sembene nods and Ethan breathes a sigh of relief. He doesn’t look hurt. Just...startled.

It’s not an expression he’s ever seen Sembene wear before. Even when they were fighting vampires, witches, even when Vanessa was possessed, he remained the most collected of them all.

Ethan refuses to accept that he’s the scariest monster Sembene’s faced.

He puts one hand on the floor, wanting to stand, but suddenly Sembene is kneeling beside him, one hand pressed to his back. His touch is firm, but it’s oddly calming, so Ethan doesn’t fight it. Not that he’d be able to put up much of a fight now anyway.

“Don’t,” Sembene says. He reaches over for the glass of water and holds it out for Ethan. “You can barely sit up.”

“Which is why I thought I’d give standing a try,” Ethan says, smiling until he reaches for the glass of water and another twinge of pain shoots through his ribs. He grimaces and takes a sip.

Sembene gives him a pointed look, then glances at his wrists. Ethan follows his gaze and winces. The skin has broken open in several places and is simply...missing in others. It looks like it’s healing though, if the itching it anything to go by. There probably won’t be much of a mark by the late afternoon.

“That’s going to need bandaging,” Sembene says. He gingerly takes Ethan’s wrist in his hand and turns it sideways, examining it. Ethan closes his eyes. It feels nice, being touched, being cared for. He’s not used to it.

“It’ll be fine in a few hours,” Ethan says. It always is. “The morning after is always like this. I get all banged up, sleep it off, and then when I wake up I’m good as new.” He opens his eyes, expecting a reply.

Sembene stares at Ethan’s wrist with the kind of intensity Ethan would expect of a hunter, not a friend. It’s unsettling.

He fights the urge to pull his wrist away. “What?”

With what looks like a huge force of will, Sembene pulls his gaze away and looks at Ethan’s face. “This was all bone a few hours ago,” he says. “Your skin is still on the chains.”

Ethan forces himself not to look at the chains. He’ll take Sembene’s word for it. He moves his hand away and sits back against the wall.

He’s woken up before in worse states than this and didn’t think twice about it. When it was just him, he could deal with it without examination, go to bed, move on. But having someone else here to witness it makes everything more real. There’s no hiding this time.

Ethan sighs. “You said something about bandages?”

Sembene nods. He stands, walks over to the other side of the room, and picks up a few supplies laid out on a tray. He crouches down next to Ethan. His eyes trail over Ethan’s body, as if trying to pick out all the parts that will need tending to - it leaves Ethan feeling oddly vulnerable, which isn’t a common emotion for him. He chalks it up to the pain making him more sensitive than usual.

Ethan averts his eyes awkwardly and Sembene seems to get the message. “Where do you want me to start?” he asks, voice blessedly gentle, as always. He really couldn’t stand anyone else right now, come to think of it; not even Vanessa, with her low, serious rasp. Brona, maybe, but…

He shakes his head. Sembene is here. Sembene waited all night in the chair and watched him become a monster.

Sembene is here despite seeing Ethan at his worst.

“Ribs, I think,” Ethan says. He shifts and can’t hold back another wince as the movement jostles...something. _Fuck,_ he hates this.  
Sembene nods. “I thought as much. The ribs are always the most bothersome.” He turns to his medical supplies and unrolls a bit of bandage. “Take off your shirt.”

Ethan obeys. Normally this would present a bit of a problem, considering his range of motion is limited, but his shirt is already in tatters, bloodstained and reeking of sweat. He shrugs and it practically falls off his shoulders. He balls it up and tosses it into the corner of the room.

Sembene turns back to him, a strip of bandage in one hand. He eyes him critically.

“Not too bad,” he says, gesturing to the bruises scattered over Ethan’s chest, a colorful array of green, purple, and yellow. He places his hand on Ethan’s side, just over his ribs. Ethan prepares for pain, but it never comes. Sembene’s fingers ghost over Ethan’s side, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He has a light touch, even if his hands are a bit rough, callused in interesting places. They’re not from holding a gun. A spear maybe, or a knife? Most likely something sharp and heavy, something that can be thrown if the situation calls for it.

It’s an oddly appealing thought.

Ethan leans his head back against the wall and takes a deep breath. He really needs to go to sleep.

“Easy for you to say,” he replies, bringing himself back to the present. He slides his gaze back to Sembene’s face, away from his steady hands currently mapping out the broken bone under his skin. “Have you ever been injured?”

Sembene shoots him a sardonic look and for a second Ethan fears that it’s too personal a question. But the corner of Sembene’s mouth turns up, a ghost of a smile, and he relaxes again.

“Show me someone who hasn’t and I’ll be very surprised, Mr. Chandler.” He takes his hand away, leaving Ethan’s skin cold, and reaches for the bandages. “It depends on the degree of injury you’re talking about. Everyone bleeds at some point, usually for the first time when they’re children. But I have a feeling that’s not what you meant.”

“No,” Ethan says. Sembene places the bandage around the front of his torso and Ethan leans away from the wall so he can wrap it around. “I mean seriously injured. Like-”

“I don’t think many people have been injured like this.” Sembene gives Ethan a meaningful glance, subtly letting him know that it won’t be that easy to change the subject. “You were trying to rip yourself apart.”

Ethan nods. It doesn’t come as much of a surprise. He slides his gaze over to the chains. The cuffs are bloody and the links themselves look like they’ve been through hell. If he was pulling at them all night - and he’s certain that he was -  it’s no wonder he’s exhausted.

Sembene pins the bandages in place. They feel tight against his chest, but it’s oddly grounding, as if they’re the only thing holding him together.

The sudden urge to rip them off nearly winds him.

He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve tenderness or gentleness from anyone. The thing inside of him is restless. Even now he can feel it prowling, angry and murderous now that it’s been put back in its cage. And there’s no end to it, no matter what he does when he’s conscious, he’ll always have the _thing_ lurking inside of him.

“I should be put down,” he murmurs, surprised at the sudden bout of self loathing. “Like a fucking dog.”

Sembene follows Ethan’s gaze, but his expression remains unreadable, neutral. His hand is a warm, welcome presence on Ethan’s side. Ethan wonders if he’s measuring his breathing, or if it’s simply unintentional. Ethan never pegged Sembene as the affectionate touching type, but he does show more care than anyone else in their group, despite his usually stolid manner.

“I have seen real monsters, Mr. Chandler,” he says, after a moment. “Maybe too many for one lifetime. I’m experienced enough to know that what happened to you, what keeps happening to you, isn’t something you chose. Real monsters choose to be what they are to suit their own ends. I can’t see you doing this intentionally.”

Ethan clenches his jaw and turns to meet Sembene’s eyes. His chest feels tight. He wants to believe it, in every aching part of his body he wants it to be true, but it makes no sense. None of it makes any sense and it never has and it probably never will and it _hurts_ and he wants to stop fighting but-

“But what if I did?” His voice breaks and he looks away, ashamed that he’s asking something Sembene will never be able to answer. Sembene’s already been kind enough; he doesn’t need him to comfort him emotionally too. He clenches his jaw and tries again. “What if I did something to deserve-”

Sembene presses down on the bandage, hard enough to make Ethan stop. He looks back at Sembene, who leans in close.

“You’re not listening,” he says, voice low. “The truly despicable ones, the true monsters, are those who have never bled. You understand?”

Sembene’s eyes are bright with conviction, showing more emotion than Ethan has ever seen from him before. It’s startling, but his words sink in slowly, taking their time. Sembene’s reaction to him isn’t like anyone else’s. It’s unexpected.

But it’s the most comforting thing anyone’s said to him in a long time.

He’s suddenly very aware of how close Sembene is.

He inhales, slowly. “So what are you saying?”

Sembene sighs, a little puff of warm air against Ethan’s mouth that tastes like fondness and exasperation. He puts his hand on the back of Ethan’s neck and pulls until their foreheads touch.

It’s a surprising move coming from Sembene. He usually seems so untouchable. But Ethan gives into it. He feels starved for affection, for connection of any kind.

“I mean,” he says, eyes boring into Ethan’s, willing him to understand, “that just because you are monstrous, it does not mean you are a monster.”

Ethan stares at Sembene, lips moving soundlessly as he tries to think of something to say. Protestations come to his lips, but die before he can give them any sound.

“Sembene,” he says, finally, “I would really like to kiss you right now.”

Sembene smiles, small and warm, and closes the distance between them.

 


End file.
